


if we only die once (i wanna die with you)

by clean



Category: Karlie Kloss - Fandom, Life Is Strange (Video Game), Taylor Swift (Musician)
Genre: F/F, life is strange au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-06 15:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8759455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clean/pseuds/clean
Summary: What do you say to someone who used to know every single thing about you? Taylor accidentally acquires the power to rewind and change the past and Karlie always happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **IMPORTANT / DISCLAIMER:** this fic is based off life is strange (which i don't own. i wish i did, though.) that means the plot is quite literally the life is strange plot (with some changes.) i don't take credit for anything directly from the original game (including the iconic lines i added in here.) so don't come @ me with "you copied the game!" like yes. i know.
> 
> also, some of the characters in here are based off real life people, but i don't know them and this is all fiction. and please don't send links of this to anyone connected to them either. just don't do it.
> 
>  **WARNINGS:** this story involves themes of violence, death, (implied) homophobia, (some) religion, abuse, blackmail, mental illness, and assault, and at times, includes smoking, drinking, drug use, and in one instance, a relationship between a minor and an adult (though in that last case, nothing is actually shown.) if you are particularly sensitive to and/or triggered by any of these topics, i recommend that you either avoid this story altogether or message me on my [tumblr](http://5ros.tumblr.com/) about what exactly happens and i can explain it better for you. stay safe please!
> 
> fic title from "something i need" by onerepublic, chapter titles are from songs off the life is strange soundtrack :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tiny iridescent butterfly flies past. Taylor reaches up only for it to flit through the space between her fingers. It lands on a janitorial cart around the corner of the last stall.
> 
> Now _that_ would be a good photo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey look what i'm finally publishing!! this fic has been my baby for a few months now and it's so weird to be sharing it??
> 
> thank you to [daniella](http://firstheartbreak.tumblr.com/) for dealing with my constant crying about this fic for like...months and just generally being the bestest best friend!!!
> 
> [amanda](http://peggycarter.tk/) betaed this, thank u for reading and editing my Bad Writing!!! i am undeserving
> 
> chapter title from mt. washington by local natives. **warnings for this part - violence, death, guns.** if that's too much this is really not the fic for you sorry

The thing is, Taylor tries not to sleep during classes. She's a good student, promise. But holy shit, this has got to be a nightmare.

It's not nighttime, it's too bright to be, but the huge storm has turned the sky grey. The combination of wind and rain almost pushes Taylor right over. She reaches up to feel her hair. It's soaked, as if she's been standing here for longer than a mere 20 seconds. Weird.

From the corner of her eye, Taylor sees a golden image of a doe beckoning her forward, almost like it’s trying to lead her to something. She follows it for a second before it fades away. In the wake of the disappearance, Taylor can see there's a muddy path up and to her right. For a second she thinks it reminds her of something before it hits her that it's not deja vu, it's a memory. It's the path up to the old broken lighthouse.  
  
I'll be safe up there, Taylor thinks. Less trees and rocks that can hurt me up there.  
  
It takes a few minutes. Taylor shields her face from the wind and rain as she climbs the path. It's a miracle she makes it to the top without being hit by a branch or something.

When she gets to the top, though, there's a tornado inches away from ripping her town up to pieces. It's bigger and scarier than in pictures. In pictures, you just can't tell how big it really is. But it's real, real as ever, and it's about to hit Taylor's home. It's too much to look at. She turns toward the lighthouse just to see that it’s about to fall.  
  
"No," she whispers to herself. It won't change a thing. The lantern room at the very top of the cracks and tips toward Taylor, the glass shattering through the descent, the heavy metal bars increasing in speed as they fall toward her head.  
  
She covers her eyes.  
  
—  
  
"’Humanity is tortured.’ That was Arbus’ vision. She captured portraits of people she thought were ‘trapped,’ you know? Trapped within humanity. But I could frame any one of you in a dark corner, and capture you in a moment of desperation. It’s too easy to do. It’s not a unique view, you know?" Mr. Feldmann says. Taylor jolts awake. No one seems to notice.  
  
That dream felt so real, Taylor thinks. Strange.  
  
Sometime in the last few minutes, it looks like Taylor has attracted the attention of Zayn, who glares at her menacingly from across the room. His phone buzzes and he turns away, suddenly smiling at the screen. Probably that one football player he’s dating. _Ugh._

From the other side of the classroom, Tori accidentally drops her photos, and they scatter across the tiles. “Sorry,” she whispers under her breath, picking up the prints as quickly and quietly as she can.

Taylor stares at her desk. It's the same. Nothing's changed since the weird dream. On impulse, she picks up her camera and turns it toward herself to take a picture. At least that still works.

“Ms. Swift,” Mr. Feldmann says, startling Taylor out of her reverie. “Perhaps you’d like to explain why you’re taking a selfie during a lecture?”

“Sorry, Mr. Feldmann,” she says guiltily. “It won’t happen again.”

“Don’t apologize, Taylor. Just answer a question. Now, do you know what Louis Daguerre is most known for inventing?”  
  
“Um…” Taylor doesn’t have an answer for Mr. Feldmann, and he turns away, clicking his tongue.

“Please pay more attention next time, Taylor. Anyone else?”  
  
“Louis Daguerre invented the first practical method of taking permanent photographs,” Zayn replies from the other side of the room. He’s smiling in Taylor’s direction, kind of fake, like the teacher’s pet that not a single other student likes. Then again, that does describe Zayn.

“Thank you, Zayn. At least someone was paying attention,” Mr. Feldmann says, looking pointedly at Taylor. She looks down at her notebook in shame. The bell rings right then, and Taylor is about to grab her things and rush off when she hears Mr. Feldmann’s voice.

“Wait up. I need to speak to you, Taylor.” She turns around and walks back. Mr. Feldmann sighs. “Taylor, why haven’t you entered your picture in the Everyday Heroes contest?”  
  
“I just. I’m not confident about my entry right now. But I will be; I promise I’ll turn something in,” she says, eager to leave.

“Alright, Taylor. Just remember that you’re talented, and this is an amazing opportunity for you,” Mr. Feldmann says. He looks kind of disappointed, though. Taylor can’t blame him.

“Okay. Thanks,” she says, and turns and runs out the door. As she shuts the door to the photography room, a flyer flutters down from the outside of it. _MISSING PERSON: TONI GARRN,_ it reads across the top in bold letters. _I hope she’s okay,_ Taylor thinks to herself as she sticks the flyer back on the door and continues down the hall.  
  
—  
  
Taylor shuts the door of the girls' bathroom. It's empty. Perfect. She turns on the sink to the coldest setting and washes her hands. After drying them, she pulls her camera out of her bag. Her contest entry flies out alongside it. She snatches it out of the air and rips it into pieces.  
  
It'll never win, not alongside photos like Zayn's and Tori's, she thinks. There's no point in even entering.  
  
A tiny iridescent butterfly flies past. Taylor reaches up only for it to flit through the space between her fingers. It lands on a janitorial cart around the corner of the last stall.  
  
Now _that_ would be a good photo.  
  
Taylor walks quietly, step by step. The butterfly is still as she pulls her camera and the shutter snaps. Perfect.

For a second Taylor just stares at the butterfly. It doesn't look like any species she knows—it glimmers in shades of purple. Taylor wonders if it belongs in a small west coast town like Sanguine.

The butterfly registers the door slamming before she does and it flaps away quickly. Taylor herself ducks behind the last stall.

"Why doesn't anyone ever listen to me," a male voice wonders aloud, "instead of my parents? I'm more trustworthy, aren't I?"  
  
In any other situation, Taylor would point out this is the girls' bathroom, and that there are boys' and gender-neutral ones right around the corner. But now? She stays quiet and peeks around the corner.  
  
It's a boy with brown hair who looks vaguely familiar. _Very descriptive, Taylor. Very descriptive._

"You got this, Louis. One, two, three,” he says to himself in the mirror, and Taylor has a flash of realization. Louis Tomlinson. Of course. His family essentially owns Blackwell, seeing as they funded about 90% of the school's construction. Then Louis pulls out a gun.

 _Holy shit,_ Taylor thinks, flattening herself against the wall. _I'm so dead._

"You got this," Louis tells himself, waving the gun at his mirror image. At that moment, the door bursts open, and a tall girl with dyed purple hair storms in.

"It's time to pay up," the girl says to him. He doesn't look away from the mirror, but Taylor sees him tuck his gun into his jacket, hidden just out of view.

“I don’t have any money,” he says.

"Come on, Louis,” she replies, checking the stalls. Taylor holds her breath, and the girl doesn’t check behind the last wall. Thank the lord. “I know you’ve got cash. It’s not some big secret or anything. And I know you’ve been dealing. Blakesley isn’t that big of a school.”

“I told you. I don’t have any money,” he reiterates. From where she stands, Taylor can see his hands shaking. He genuinely looks scared of the purple-haired girl.

Honestly? Taylor would be too.

“Would you rather I ask your parents? I’m sure your younger siblings would be very, very willing to hand it over.” There’s a glint in the girl’s eyes as she says it.

“Don’t bring them into this,” he replies. His eyes are still on the drain. Taylor can see his hand moving slowly towards his gun, still tucked into his letterman jacket, and her heart sinks.

“I just need the money, Tomlinson. That’s it. Otherwise, I can go tell your conservative parents you’ve been seeing someone who’s not your girlfriend. Oh, I’m sorry. Would you like me to put “girlfriend” in quotes? I thought it was implied—”

“You don’t know me,” he says, finally taking his gun out of his inner pocket. “Whatever you think about me isn’t true!”

The girl looks stunned, like she didn’t expect him to fight back. “Oh my god. Where is that from? Put it away!” Louis raises it and she backs into the door.

“Stop telling me what to do! Stop pressuring me! I’m so tired of it!”

“You’re gonna get in so much trouble for owning _that_ than dealing, man,” she says, trying to laugh. She sounds terrified, and Taylor doesn’t know which one of them scares her more right now.

“Would anyone even notice you were gone?” he asks the girl, and even from an outsider’s perspective, Taylor can easily tell he’s projecting his own thoughts onto her.

“Back off, you’re—” the girl pushes him away, but before she can even finish her sentence, there’s a resounding _bang!_ that echoes through the bathroom. Taylor sees the wound already open up as a result of the close proximity. Louis drops the gun and brings his hands to his mouth, as if he didn’t believe he could actually _do_ this. The purple-haired girl falls to the floor, but right before she hits the ground, as if it’s a reflex, Taylor steps forward.

“No,” she whispers, and reality sort of distorts, kind of like a funhouse mirror. Around her hand, the air bends and twists. The girl and Louis disappear.

"It’s not a unique view, you know?" Mr. Feldmann is saying as Taylor’s eyes open yet again. He’s still teaching the same lesson. The same exact lecture that Taylor was listening to before she watched the girl in the bathroom get shot.  
  
_Oh my god._

Obviously it must be some kind of power, right? She reached out her hand and now she’s back here. So it must have been some kind of power to rewind time.

When Taylor looks up, Zayn is glaring at her, same as before. His phone buzzes and he turns away smiling, same as before.

 _It’s all on you, Tori,_ Taylor thinks, just as Tori drops her prints.

“Sorry,” she whispers, the exact same way as before. It’s kind of disconcerting how the words sound the exact same as the first time.

 _Now it’s my turn,_ Taylor thinks. She picks up her camera and promptly drops it on the floor, shattering it into way too many pieces to put together again.

 _Well, shit,_ she thinks. She reaches out and the space around her hand twists and distorts like a funhouse mirror again. When she retracts her hand, Mr. Feldmann is a couple words back in his lecture, and her camera is lying on her desk, completely together again. She turns it around to take a selfie. The shutter sounds and a polaroid begins to print. _Thank god it still works._

“Ms. Swift, perhaps you’d like to explain why you’re taking a selfie during a lecture?” Mr. Feldmann asks, same as last time.

“Sorry, Mr. Feldmann, it won’t happen again,” Taylor says on autopilot. The only thought running through her mind is _you have to go save the girl who you saw die._

“Don’t apologize, Taylor. Just answer a question. Now, do you know what Louis Daguerre is most known for inventing?”

This time Taylor has an answer. “Louis Daguerre invented the first practical method of taking permanent photographs,” she says, exactly mirroring Zayn’s response from earlier. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Zayn glaring, as if he were about to say those exact words (which he actually had, if the timeline was about to go the same direction as last time.)

Speaking of last time, Taylor really needed to get out of this classroom before the purple-haired girl got shot again. Right before she can raise her hand to ask if she can go to the bathroom, the bell rings.

“Wait up. I need to speak to you, Taylor.” Mr. Feldmann tells her. Taylor turns on her heel and rushes back.

“I’m kind of in a hurry, so…” she says, trailing off.

“Taylor, why haven’t you entered your picture in the Everyday Heroes contest?”

“I’ll turn something in, I’m just not confident in my entry right now,” she rushes out all at once. She needs to leave and save the girl in the bathroom.

“Okay, Taylor. Just remember that you’re talented, and this is an amazing opportunity for you,” Mr. Feldmann says, just like he did the first time.

“Got it, thanks!” Taylor says, already running out the door yet again.

—

The bathroom is thankfully empty when Taylor reaches it. _Okay, what did I do first?_ she asks herself. _The butterfly, right._

The bright violet-coloured butterfly is still on the sink, where it was the first time Taylor was in this bathroom. As she approaches it, it flies to the back of the room, landing on the very same janitorial cart. She takes out her polaroid camera to snap a picture of the creature quickly. Just as she stuffs the picture inside her backpack, the door bangs open. It’s Louis.

“You got this, Louis. One, two, three. You got this,” Louis says, looking at his gun in the mirror. Taylor hasn’t got much time.

The purple-haired girl is here again, opening the door with a loud _bam._ “It's time to pay up.” Taylor spots a fire alarm on the wall. _Perfect. But how am I gonna break the glass?_

“I don’t have any money.” _The janitorial cart,_ Taylor thinks. _Maybe in there? On the bottom? Maybe something fell under it?_

“Come on, Louis. I know you’ve got cash. It’s not some big secret or anything. And I know you’ve been dealing. Blakesley isn’t that big of a school.” Sifting through the cart, Taylor can’t find anything that would break the glass easily. _Shit._

“I told you. I don’t have any money.” Suddenly she sees the handle of something poking out from under the cart. _Is this my lucky day?_

“Would you rather I ask your parents? I’m sure your younger siblings would be very, very willing to hand it over.” The cart is heavy, as Taylor finds out just then. She struggles to move it over just a few inches.

“Don’t bring them into this.”

“I just need the money, Tomlinson. That’s it. Otherwise, I can go tell your conservative parents you’ve been seeing someone who’s not your girlfriend. Oh, I’m sorry. Would you like me to put “girlfriend” in quotes? I thought it was implied—” Taylor finally pushes the cart enough that she can recover the hammer from under it. _Bless._

“You don’t know me. Whatever you think about me isn’t true!” _Fuck. This is when he takes out the gun, right? There isn’t much time left._

“Oh my god. Where is that from? Put it away!” Taylor tries to lift the hammer up only to discover it’s heavy. Really heavy. _If there was ever a time I regret cheating out of physical education, it is right now,_ she thinks.

“Stop telling me what to do! Stop pressuring me! I’m so tired of it!”

“You’re gonna get in so much trouble for owning that than dealing, man." Taylor lifts up the hammer, just barely, over her shoulder, but she just can’t summon the strength to move it.

“Would anyone even notice you were gone?”

“Back off, you’re—” the gunshot sounds, and Taylor quickly reaches out her hand to rewind to a couple seconds before, so she has time to break the glass.

“Back off—” the girl starts, the fateful sentence, and right then Taylor manages to smash the hardy surface of the fire alarm. She quickly sets it off, and the emergency lights start flashing. Loud sirens sound throughout the building. The girl pushes Louis away from her.

“Seriously. You’re gonna get in so much shit for that, man,” she says one last time, before sprinting out, taking advantage of his momentary confusion.

“Fuck,” Louis says to himself, tucking his gun into the varsity jacket before running out a few seconds later. Taylor breathes a sigh of relief. She picks up her backpack and walks out before remembering that everyone else went out due to the fire alarm, and that she’s still standing in the middle of the empty hallway.

“Taylor?” someone asks from behind her. She turns around to find Principal Paine looking at her questioningly. _You couldn’t have had better timing, universe?_

“Hi,” she says awkwardly.

“What are you doing inside? All students are supposed to evacuate the building when the fire alarm sounds.”

“I was in the bathroom,” Taylor replies. It’s not a lie, not really. She was in the bathroom. Just, you know, saving someone from being shot, instead of washing her hands or something.

“You wouldn’t happen to know any student who would have been the one to sound the false alarm?” Principal Paine asks. She looks suspicious, and she’s not stupid, but if Taylor doesn’t flat-out say it was her, they can never have any evidence.

“No, sorry,” she says.

“Anything else to say to me?” A thought then crosses Taylor’s mind: she could report Louis and his gun. Or not. It could have potentially bad consequences seeing as she watched Louis shoot someone, and his family being as powerful as they are.

She ultimately decides against it. “Again, nope. Sorry for wasting your time, Principal Paine. Have a good rest of your day.”

Principal Paine looks just tired, like she’s not going to press the issue. “Okay, Taylor. Please follow school protocol next time, though.”

“Of course,” Taylor says. She only needs to take a few steps forward and she’s already out of the building and into the quad.

—

Taylor’s first few steps into the quad are sort of chilly in a nice early-October kind of way. Blakesley was shown to be quite beautiful during autumn on the websites that Taylor had looked at before applying, back when she was still at the public highschool of her district back in Seattle last spring.

Just then her phone buzzes with a text from Harry. _Taylor, do you have my USB? I need to watch one of the shows on there. I have a date. Of sorts. (Don’t ask about it.)_

 _yeah, it’s in my dorm, do you want it now???_ Taylor texts back quickly, pausing on the last stair outside the entrance of the school.

_If you can. Thanks! Meet me in the main parking lot after. xx_

Taylor rolls her eyes as she reads the “hugs” at the end of the message. _love u too my boy,_ she replies, turning her phone off.

Niall is halfway across the quad, and he waves her over with a smile. Taylor smiles back (how could you not? It would be cruel) and walks over, setting down her backpack next to him and sitting down.

“Hey, Niall,” she says. “What are you doing?”

“Writing a song!” Niall replies excitedly. “I need your help. What would be a better for this chord?” He strums once, and it’s just a bit off from what Taylor can tell is the clear sound he wants.

“You’re right on the G chord, but put the capo on the second fret,” she tells him, securing the capo for him. Niall smiles brightly back at her.

“Thanks, Taylor!” he says. “Wanna help anymore?”

“I can’t, sorry,” she apologizes. “I have to drop Harry’s USB off. He needs it for a date or something.”  
  
“Oh, well. Thanks anyway,” he says, but his smile looks sort of forced. Taylor wonders why.

“Anytime,” she replies, picking up her backpack. _Okay, so maybe this day hasn’t been all bad._ She turns around the corner toward the dormitories. On the way there, she quite literally runs right into Ms. Williams.

Mrs. Williams is one of the younger teachers—somewhere in her mid-thirties, Taylor guesses—and she’s been extremely kind to Taylor as she adjusts to the change between public school in the city and being a private school student at an elite boarding school with celebrity teachers. Taylor’s not sure Mrs. Williams isn’t one of said celebrity teachers, actually—she looks pretty similar to some athlete Taylor’s sure she’s seen on her TV, competing at the Olympics or something.

“Taylor, I know you might not have the time, but would you please sign this petition? Mr. Cowell is planning on putting surveillance cameras all around campus. Security is good, but he’s planning on putting them into restrooms and the like.”

 _Could have come in handy earlier today,_ Taylor thinks, but she signs it anyway, because that would be pretty scary—the thought that someone is always watching. “You’re right, that is kinda creepy. And I’ve always got time for you, Mrs. Williams.”

“Thank you, Taylor. I did choose a good favourite student,” she says, mock-leaning in, “but don't tell anyone else that.”

“I got you,” Taylor says with a wink. She says goodbye and continues toward the dorms.

When Taylor turns the corner the groundskeeper is there, though she can’t remember his name for the life of her. He’s been nice enough, though, so she waves to him and he smiles and waves back. (She also may have seen him talking to a squirrel last week, but that may have been the effect of her over-studying for the midterms she has coming up next week. So it may or may have not been a vision, you know. A lot of tea and sleep deprivation can do that to you, as senior year has taught Taylor.)

Unluckily, Zayn is sitting in front of the entrance to the co-ed dorms where Taylor lives. He’s already glaring, which means he’s noticed her, and Taylor is only now regretting “stealing” his answer earlier in Mr. Feldmann’s class.

“Taylor, is it?” he says as she approaches.

“You don’t have to pretend you don’t know my name,” Taylor replies. Some of Zayn’s friends snicker at that, but with one look from him, they’re quiet again.

“Why did you say the exact thing I was going to say during Photography today? We all know you weren’t paying attention anyway. There was no way you could have answered that without having cheated or something.”“Maybe, you know, I was paying attention. Contrary to whatever ‘you all’ think,” Taylor says. “Can I get into my dorm now?”

“Can you wait a little bit, honey?” Zayn says condescendingly. “I don’t know, find something to do with your time. Go fuck your selfie,” he says with a sense of finality, and turns back to his friends.

Taylor has an overwhelming sense of wanting to ask Zayn to fight her, but she decides to go for petty revenge that will get her into her dorm instead. The groundskeeper has his back turned, but he’s already set up a ladder next to the dormitory entrance, and there’s a huge bucket of paint right next to it, just waiting to be used in a revenge plan.

Taylor reaches down and fiddles with the handle of the bucket for a second, trying to make it so that it will fall when the groundskeeper tries to hang it from the beam above Zayn and his friends. He starts walking back toward Taylor, having already found his paintbrush, but she just lifts her hand and lets time rewind for a few more seconds so that she can finish. She’s almost used to the distortion by now.

When she finishes, she backs off just enough so that she can see what goes down, but also stay out of sight and therefore unable to be blamed. The groundskeeper climbs up the ladder slowly, teetering slightly at the top, before he tries to set the bucket down on the beam. The handle snaps as soon as it’s out of his grasp, and while Zayn’s friends manage to duck out of the way, Zayn gets covered in off-white paint.

“This is my boyfriend’s jacket,” he says angrily, and Taylor stifles a laugh. If Zayn finds out she was responsible, not only will he be after her, his boyfriend will, and Liam Payne is the captain of Blakesley’s football team. Taylor could probably take Zayn down in a fight, but she’d rather avoid confrontation with Liam if possible.

Moving out from behind the bushes, Taylor shifts her backpack on her shoulders and walks toward the entrance of the dorms again. Zayn is telling the groundskeeper something about his father, and Taylor can’t help but think he sounds a bit like Draco Malfoy. He glares at Taylor as she passes. She could make fun of him or comfort him, she thinks, and decides to go with the latter.

“That sucks, Zayn,” she says, “I hope your boyfriend won’t care.” His face softens, and Taylor knows she’s made the right decision.

“You know Liam?” he asks curiously. Taylor shakes her head.

“Nah, but I’ve seen him around. I’m going to my dorm.”

“Okay. Have a nice day,” Zayn says. It’s so out of character, and Taylor glances back at him just to see that he’s staring into the distance. _Oh well. I just need to get Harry his USB drive back._

Entering her own room, Taylor doesn’t see the USB on the spot on the table where she left it. Instead, there’s a pink sticky note stuck to her laptop that says _borrowed ur thumb drive to watch an anime with my girlfriend, i’ll give it back when u need! come by anytime! - perrie_.

Taylor sighs. _Another obstacle. Harry is probably getting bored by now._ Perrie is sweet, though, and Taylor did say she could borrow it if she wanted. Plus Perrie’s girlfriend is nice enough, though Taylor’s only met her a handful of times.

Perrie’s room is a few doors down from Taylor’s. Unfortunately her girlfriend Jade is waiting outside the door, and she looks really angry (impressively intimidating, for her size. Not that Jade is that short, it’s just that Taylor is really tall, and Perrie is constantly wearing really, really high heels.) “I’m not opening it until you tell me the truth!” she yells through the door.

 _Yikes,_ Taylor thinks. “Hey, Jade, can I talk to Perrie? I need to get a USB drive back from her.”

“Not until she tells me the truth about her and Liam Payne, apparently,” Jade says, but more to Perrie than Taylor. Perrie’s loud sigh is audible from outside the room.

“Who told you that?” Taylor asks. Perrie doesn’t seem like the type to cheat.

“Zayn,” Jade answers. And Taylor’s suspicions are confirmed.

“I’ll be back,” Taylor says, walking back down the hallway. She heads to the hallway with the boys’ dorms in it and quickly locates Zayn’s. His whiteboard always has some fake deep song lyric on it—today it reads “Baby, it won't be long / You're the one that I’m waiting on”.

“What does that even mean? You already have a boyfriend,” Taylor whispers out loud to herself as she slips inside, the door having been unlocked. Seeing Zayn’s pictures arranged neatly on the wall, she forms them into the shape of a middle finger. _Quite a bold statement,_ she thinks to herself before continuing to look for evidence.

Zayn’s laptop is left open (Taylor hates people who leave their laptop open. Who even does that?) so Taylor opens up his emails. The latest message is from Zayn to one of his friends, a girl named Gigi who Taylor thinks lives three doors up from her.

_I just told Jade that Perrie was cheating on her with Liam. OMG, I feel kind of bad now. Oh well._

_Perfect._ Taylor quickly clicks the “print” button and grabs the paper copy of the email from Zayn’s printer. She rushes back to Perrie’s dorm and hands Jade the copy.

“I think you should read this,” she says. Jade frowns.

“Ugh. I should have known.” She opens the door and Perrie comes out, looking only a bit bitter (considering how long she must have been in there for.) “Sorry, Perrie. You know I’m insecure about stuff like this.”  
  
“Of course, Jade,” Perrie replies, wrapping her arms around her. “Here, Taylor. Take the thumb drive. Jade and I are gonna take a walk.”  
  
“Of course,” Taylor replies, taking the USB stick from Perrie’s hand. She tucks it into her pocket and heads out of the dorms, heading the opposite way from which she came. She’s almost at the gates to the parking lot when she hears voices arguing and stops suddenly.

Peeking around the corner, Taylor sees Tori arguing with the security guard, Mr. Cowell. He seems mad, and Tori just looks really upset.

“You’re like, stalking me,” Tori says, sounding on the verge of tears. Mr. Cowell sighs.

“I’m just trying to help,” he explains. “I’ve always had security cameras around the campus; it’s a safety precaution. I’m trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need any protection,” Tori says, backing away from him. “Back off. Please.”

Taylor could take a picture, and use it against Mr. Cowell. She could report him for this—harassing a student, as it seems from the scene before her—but she wouldn’t be able to help Tori out.

“Hey, watch it,” she shouts, and Mr. Cowell pauses. Tori looks relieved, and Taylor’s grateful she chose to intervene—who knows what Mr. Cowell would have done if she didn’t. “Isn’t bullying students against the school code? You could get fired for that, right?”

“I wasn’t bullying anybody. You have a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, don’t you, Swift?” Mr. Cowell asks her. Before Taylor can open her mouth to ask what he means, he continues: “I saw you in the hallway right outside the first floor girls’ bathroom after the fire alarm went off. The alarm that was pulled was the one in the back of that bathroom. I’m not ignorant, you know.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with it,” Taylor answers flatly.

“I don’t have any evidence, so there’s nothing I can do. Stick to your own business next time, though. Tori,” he says, nodding once at her. She nods back, obviously shaken by the encounter.

“Mr. Cowell,” she says. As soon as he’s out of earshot, she breathes a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Taylor. I don’t know what got into him.”

“Was Mr. Cowell harassing you, Tori?” Taylor asks worriedly. Tori shakes her head no.

“No, I don’t think so. He was just kind of being a jerk. It’s whatever.” Tori turns on her phone to check the time and grimaces. “He got me a bit late for bible study, though. I’ve got to go. Thank you so much, Taylor.”

“No problem,” she says, waving as Tori disappears, presumably to her aforementioned bible study. Continuing past where Mr. Cowell had confronted Tori, she’s at the parking lot in a few steps. Harry is leaning against his beat-up Jeep, smiling down at something on his phone. When Taylor calls his name, he looks up and smiles even wider at her.

“Taylor!” he says, wrapping his arms around her once she gets within hugging distance. “I thought you were dead or something. You weren’t answering my messages.” She rolls her eyes.

“I didn’t reply for, like, 10 minutes. And it’s only been about half an hour since you asked me to meet you out here. I had to go to my dorm and stuff. You’re so dramatic,” she says, punching his arm lightly. Harry frowns at her and rubs the spot where she hit him.

“Rude,” he says, and Taylor laughs at him. “Shut up. It’s not that funny. Anyway, did you get the chance to watch any of the shows on there?”

“Yeah, I did, actually! Thanks for that,” Taylor gushes. “Um, I watched _Supernatural’s_ most recent season, because it wasn’t on Netflix, so thanks for that. All of _Friends_ because it’s a classic, you know? I never get tired of it. There were more, I think, I just forgot off the top of my head.”

“Taylor, you probably only re-watched _Friends_ because you’re really gay for young Courteney Cox,” Harry points out. Taylor shrugs.  
  
“I never denied that. I mean, she's pretty.Here’s the drive, by the way,” she says, digging it out of her pocket and dropping it into Harry’s palm.

“Than—” Harry can’t finish before he’s cut off by a furious shorter boy coming toward them.

“Swift, did you pull that alarm?” Louis yells. Taylor flinches. _Shit._

“What alarm?” she asks, trying to play clueless.

“You were in the bathroom the whole time,” he accuses her, “weren’t you? How much of that conversation did you hear?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Taylor says, because even though it might not be completely believable, if she doesn’t admit anything, Louis can’t use it against her.

Louis is about to punch Taylor when Harry reaches forward and envelopes his fist with a single hand. “Try me,” he says simply, and suddenly they’re fighting, Louis having the advantage of experience and speed, with Harry being clearly taller and stronger.  
  
“Stop!” Taylor shouts, and she tries to step between them, only for Harry to push her out of harm’s way. Right before she can step right back to help him out, a beat-up pickup truck pulls up behind her.

“Jump in, dumbass!” the girl in the driver’s seat tells Taylor, and she slams the door shut to avoid Louis coming after them. Only when the truck is beginning to pull out of the parking lot does she look over.

It’s the girl with the purple hair, the one Taylor saved from a certain death just this morning. And she looks exactly like someone Taylor used to know from Sanguine years ago, back when her whole family lived here and she was just a kid.

“Karlie?” she asks.

“Hey, Taylor,” Karlie replies, turning off the car’s radio.

—

Taylor doesn’t say anything at first. It feels sort of unnatural—what do you say to someone who used to know every single thing about you? They grew apart, and now Taylor can’t even look her in the eye.

The sun has already begun to set—photography had already been a late class, and combined with Taylor’s search for the USB drive, it’s pretty late in the afternoon. The light backs Karlie’s focused profile, and Taylor finds herself staring at the way the sun frames the violet strands of her hair.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Karlie jokes, still watching the road. Taylor’s not quite sure where they’re going, but from memory, she knows that on this path they’ll eventually hit Karlie’s neighbourhood.

“I’d rather keep looking at you,” Taylor blurts out honestly, and Karlie only looks over confusedly for a second.  
  
“Could’ve been looking at me for the last two months or so, you know. Or have you been back in the area for longer?” Karlie asks dryly. Taylor sighs.

“I didn’t really—I was going to call you or something, I swear. It’s just that I got wrapped up in starting senior year, and you don’t go to Blakesley, and it was just hard.”  
  
“Was it hard not to contact me for the past 5 years? You sent one email, Taylor. And I’m eighty percent sure your mom wrote it.”  
  
“I wrote that email! You underestimate my language skills. And I’m sorry. I don’t really have an explanation for that one.”  
  
“It’s whatever,” Karlie says with a shrug. “At least you’re here now.”  
  
“Yeah. You’ve changed a lot. Purple?” Taylor asks. Karlie gives her a weird look.

“What do you mean, purple?” Taylor points to Karlie’s hair, and she laughs brightly.

“It’s just that. There’s no real meaning behind it. I just like purple, and it looks good, doesn’t it?”

“Sure it does,” Taylor says sarcastically. It _does_ actually look good on Karlie, but that’s not exactly something Taylor wants to say out loud. She’d probably never hear the end of it.

“Okay,” Karlie says, smirking, as if she can hear exactly what Taylor’s thinking. The lighting looks really good right then, and Taylor reaches into her backpack to pick up her camera. Unfortunately, the lense has a big crack through the center of it.

“Shit,” she says, frowning at her broken Polaroid. “Rest in peace.” Karlie glances over at the camera.

“We can fix that when we get to my house. My stepdad probably has some kind of tools that work.”

“Thanks,” Taylor says, and Karlie looks back at the road. Taylor spots a stack of flyers in the backseat. It’s the same one she had accidentally knocked over outside Mr. Feldmann’s classroom, the one with the blonde girl plastered across the front. “Who’s that?”

“It does have her name on the front, if you can, you know, read.”

“No, but like, who is Toni Garrn? She doesn’t go to Blakesley.”  
  
“She did. Before, you know, she went missing.”  
  
“Oh. How long has it been?”  
  
Karlie inhales sharply. Taylor must have struck a nerve or something. “Since April, so, like, six months.”

“You knew her?”

Karlie laughs bitterly in response. “I do have a stack of flyers advertising her disappearance in my backseat. I definitely knew her.”  
  
“Were you the one who put them up all over campus?” Taylor asks. Karlie doesn’t answer. “Doesn’t anyone else care? Shouldn’t she have been found by now?”

“We’re here,” Karlie says, shutting off the engine. “Let’s go upstairs.”

—

Karlie’s room is definitely not the way it was just a few years ago—now the walls are plastered with “emo” artists instead of the former bubblegum pop ones, and there’s pictures. They’re not pictures with Taylor, though, like they’d been before—they’re almost all pictures of Karlie and the missing girl, Toni. The ones that aren’t of the two of them are pictures of just Toni, obviously taken by Karlie, as evidenced by the bright smile on the girl’s face as she looks to someone behind the camera and the framing of the photos—like how someone would frame their girlfriend, looking like an angel in love in the light. Karlie’s photos are amazing, and Taylor wonders why she’s not at Blakesley studying photography.

The last part Taylor must have said aloud. “I dropped out,” Karlie says, picking up a cigarette as she brushes past Taylor. She sits on the edge of her bed, reaching for her lighter, but Taylor bats the cigarette out of her hand faster. Karlie glares at her.

“What’d you do that for?”  
  
“Bad for you,” Taylor says. Karlie glares at her but she doesn't pick another up, so it’s a small victory.

“So you knew the missing girl? Toni? You were friends, right?”

Karlie snorts. “A little more than _friends,_ I’d say.” Before Taylor can ask what she means, Karlie clears her throat. “Anyway. You can get some tools to fix your camera downstairs.” She lays back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, obviously indicating their conversation is over.

 _Maybe she’ll be a bit more open when I come back,_ Taylor thinks. Heading downstairs, she lets her fingers brush over the off-white walls, still uneven from when the house was renovated and the Kloss family was too lazy to fix it.

Taylor wonders what Karlie’s stepdad is like. _Could he ever replace Kurt? Does Karlie even like him?_ The house is the same as it was when Taylor was last here, but there’s no way it could be anything like it was before.

When Taylor reaches the kitchen she opens the tool cabinet for glue, or some kind of substance to fix the crack in the lense. There’s nothing there that could fix it, and she groans as she realizes the lense probably couldn’t be fixed anyway.

A trick of the light catches her eye, and she opens the next cabinet over to find an old, flickering surveillance monitor. She switches it on and flips through the channels—they’re all rooms in the house. Taylor recognizes the guest room, the garage, and even Karlie’s mom’s room (or what she supposes Tracy must now share with Karlie’s stepdad.) There’s no channel for Karlie’s room, so Taylor suspects it would have been too obvious, that Karlie would have found it out.

The thought that must have gone into this? Now _that’s_ creepy.

Taylor turns off the monitor and closes the cabinets, heading back upstairs. She doesn’t bother to peek into any of the other rooms—she saw enough on the monitors.

Karlie is still lying on her bed, staring at nothing, when Taylor walks back in. “I don’t think I can fix the camera. It’s in pretty bad shape.” Karlie sits up suddenly.

“Wait, I have something for you, actually,” Karlie says. She walks over to her desk and, opening one of the drawers, pulls out a camera that looks almost exactly like Taylor’s, but in better quality than it had been even before the huge lense crack. “It used to be my dad’s, but I mean. When he. I don’t really take photos as much anymore, so you should have it. Take it as a birthday gift, I know your birthday was a couple weeks ago.”  
  
“Karlie, I can’t take this from you,” Taylor says, turning the camera over in her hands before trying to hand it back. She wants to ask why Karlie “isn’t interested” in photography anymore, considering her wall full of photos of the Toni girl. Karlie shakes her head.

“It’s yours,” she insists, pushing it back into Taylor’s hands. Taylor pauses. The late-afternoon light streaming through the window frames Karlie’s face in such a nice light for a picture, and her purple hair looks soft and shimmery instead of electric and shocking, like it had under the fluorescent lights of the bathroom. _The bathroom._ Taylor had almost forgotten about her powers.

Just then, the door gets shoved open downstairs. The moment is broken. “Come on,” Karlie says. “Let’s go. My stepdad isn’t that friendly after work.”

“Where does he work?” Taylor asks. Karlie laughs silently.

“You’ve probably met him. He’s the security guard at Blakesley.”  
  
“Mr. Cowell is your stepdad?” Taylor asks in disbelief.

“I know, right? But seriously, come on. He got mad at me the last time I had a girl over, and I _really_ don’t want to relive that.” Taylor wants to tell her that she’s not even doing anything wrong, that Karlie really has no reason to worry, when she realizes why Karlie probably had a girl over.

_Oh._

Mr. Cowell’s voice as he talks to himself gets a bit louder, and Karlie slides her window up. Crawling over her desk and through the window frame, she rests on the slightly slanted roof and extends a hand to Taylor questioningly.

“Coming?” she asks.

“Always,” Taylor says, taking her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates to come soon, but don't expect a regular schedule from me - this fic is written in parts like the game itself, so i'm not going to be updating every week.
> 
> also, come cry with with me about kaylor and life is strange [here](http://5ros.tumblr.com/)


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